Her Smile
by athenasqueen
Summary: ...but then she had smiled up at him, and swept him off his feet in the current.


He could remember the first time he ever laid eyes on her. She stood out in that crowd of rabble, looking for all the world like she belonged somewhere else, anywhere else. And she had, before this had all happened to her. Part of that high class society he had never been a part of, even before joining the army. And now here she was, no different from the rest of them.

She had been afraid the first time he had approached her, those vibrant red eyes staring up at him, neither sure if she should run or stay. He had been going to use his gift on her, to calm those nerves that buffeted at him. But then she had smiled up at him, and swept him off his feet in the current. No one had ever looked at him quite like that, not before, and certainly not after. Yet this delicate little rose in her laced up corset had smiled at him as if she knew something he didn't. And Jasper had lost his non existent breath in that moment.

She seemed to see past the killer, gaze staring directly into his soul, the very soul he had thought he had lost the moment Maria had bitten him. But she had found it again, within a matter of seconds. And Jasper had been lost to her since that moment. Not that he cared. She could have taken his undead heart from his chest, and he would have given it to her freely.

She warmed up faster to him than any of the others ever had. Her laugh, the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in all his time alive, seemed so alive, so out of place in this hell. In belonged in a different time, in a Garden of Eden. But selfishly, he found he couldn't let it go, even when he knew he should have. But how could he when her laugh was occupied by the name she had given him? Cowboy. It was so uniquely her, to name a killer like himself. And he couldn't stop himself from responding with a slight grin each time she called him that. Or his reaction when she whispered against his ear, in that teasingly husky voice of hers.

There were times when she found him, sitting by himself, the pain and the guilt too much for him to handle, the emotions threatening to drown him. Each time she wrapped her slender arms around him, resting her cheek against the flat of his back, never asking, simply content to hold him until her own warm emotions flooded into him, washing away the stain of the rest. He loved her even more for that, for never pressing for an answer. Jasper wasn't sure he would have been able to answer her anyway. Not without scaring her away. And he wanted to keep her, no matter what, no matter how selfish it may have been to taint his rose with his past.

He never held back when training her. No, he needed her to be fiercer, faster, stronger than the others. He wanted her to survive. And to that, he had to be cruel, harsher than he normally was with the newborns. The words had gone unspoken, but somehow, Lacey had known. She always seemed to know when it came to him. She just gave him that smile that had stolen his heart in the beginning, even when he had her pinned, no fear in those blood red eyes of hers. Just calm acceptance, acceptance of him and who he was. And the guilt ate at him, knowing what would become of his southern rose. What he would eventually do.

There were times when he simply watched her sparring with another, adoration plain to see in his own crimson eyes, adoration he wasn't sure how he even hid from didn't want to, though he knew he should have. His Lacey was far too pure for this world. For someone like him. But he couldn't stop his gaze from following her across the room. Whenever she moved, Jasper's own eyes trailed after her, the rest of him aching to do the same. But he never did, unwilling to draw attention to them, to her. She was his, and he didn't want to share with anyone else. He followed her everywhere when they were alone, though those times were rare. He cherished them, needing them more than blood itself.

He loved when she spoke about herself, about her life before becoming a vampire. Nestled in his arms, she would tell him all the dreams she had held as a child, the things she would have done if she had remained human, had never been caught up in Maria's web. She told him about the house she had grown up in, about the dog she had as a child, the simple things that had made her so beautifully human. And in turn, he had told her of his own past, of his own dreams and ambitions. She had taken his hand in hers, and weaved the most beautiful dream of all with her own gift, of the white picket fence and rocking chair on the porch, the fairytale of what their lives could have been. And she had taken both of their dreams and entwined them, like lovers under the moon. He had kissed her then, the first time he had ever kissed her, and she had given herself to him that night without any hesitation. He could still remember the look she wore, and the smile that blossomed when he kissed her.

He knew she loved him. With his gift, it would have been hard not to. But he never mentioned the words back, couldn't bring himself to, though his undead heart was bursting with it every time she smiled at him. She deserved someone far better than him, someone who could right by her. But every time he breached the subject, she would shake her head at him, kiss his cheek softly, and tell him there was no one in this world she would have preferred to have then her favourite cowboy.

He was well aware of what he was, what he had become. And Lacey, his little rose, didn't need a man like him in her life. And after she witnessed what he did… her levels of trust for him had faltered. She had gone from someone who would have never flinched when he trailed a hand across her soft skin to someone who couldn't even bare to look at him. She had taken to avoiding him, not wanting to speak to the monster. He couldn't blame her. She had witnessed him tearing the head from a newborn, destroying them like Maria had told him too. And Lacey had unwittingly seen him. He had made sure she wouldn't tell another soul, practically frightened her into staying quiet. And that had only worsened the guilt inside him.

Now she wouldn't even look his way, wouldn't give him that smile he had fallen so helplessly in love with, wouldn't touch him, wouldn't reassure him, wouldn't offer him her joy when the bleak moods overtook him. She had closed herself away from him, and it was like someone had turned off the sun, leaving him stumbling blindly in the dark. And he hated it. But most of all, he hated himself for what he had done to his beloved Lacey.

She kept him tethered to this world, reminded him of his own humanity, despite the fact he had long since gone past redemption. But she had always made him feel like there was hope, even in the darkest of hours. But that hope had been shattered, and he had no one to blame but himself. For he had always known it would be his job to kill her, just like the rest, and he had foolishly let himself fall in love with her. But he wouldn't have changed it for a moment, not if it meant feeling a touch of the love she had shown him all over again.

And when the time came, Jasper found her standing there, waiting for him, hands clasped in front of her, and serenity written across her delicate features. So different from the fear and rage he normally felt, and it washed over him, and he could still taste the love she still held for him, could see it in the smile she gave him. The smile that said she forgave him, and what he was about to do. And he felt like he had been hit, the air knocked from his lungs, leaving him breathless, gasping for air he didn't even need. He had stumbled into her arms, and she held him tight as he kissed her face, her lips as her hands ran through his honey blonde hair. She had always loved him, and he had doubted that.

She had never been afraid of him, not even after she had learned the truth. It had been his feelings she had been trying to spare, to soften the blow, the heartbreak that would inevitably follow. And he had been too blind to see it. They fled that night with the picture of Lacey's dream burned firmly into his mind, and her hand in his.


End file.
